Apem. The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends. When thou waft in thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mockt thee for too much curiofity; in thy rags thou knoweft none, but art defpis'd for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee, eat it. Tim. On what I hate, I feed not. Tim. Ay, though it look like thee. Apem. An th'had it hated medlers fooner, thou fhouldst have loved thyfelf better now. What man didft thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved after his means ? Tim. Who, without those means thou talk'ft of, didst thou ever know beloved? Apem. Myfelf. Tim. I understand thee, thou hadft fome means to keep a dog. Apem. What things in the world canft thou nearest compare to thy flatterers? Tim. Women neareft; but men, men are the things themselves. What wouldst thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power? Apem. Give it the beafts, to be rid of the men. Tim. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confufion of men, or remain a beaft with the beafts? Apem. Ay, Timon. Tim. A beaftly ambition, which the gods grant thee t'attain to! If thou wert a lion, the fox would beguile thee; if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat thee; if thou wert the fox, the lion would fufpect thee, when, peradventure, thou wert accus'd by the afs; if thou wert the afs, thy dulnefs would torment thee; and still thou liv'dft but as a breakfast to the wolf. If thou wert the wolf, thy greedinefs would afflict thee; and oft thou should hazard thy life for thy dinner. Wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine ownfelf the conqueft of thy fury. Wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be kill'd by the horfe; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be feized by the leopard; wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and the the fpots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life. All thy fafety were remotion, and thy defence abfence. What beaft couldst thou be, that were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou already, and feest not thy lofs in transformation! Apem. If thou couldft please me with fpeaking to me, thou might'ft have hit upon it here. The commonwealth of Athens is become a foreft of beafts. Tim. How has the afs broke the wall, that thou art out of the city? Apem. Yonder comes a poet, and a painter. (31) The plague of company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way. When I know not what elfe to do, I'll fee thee again. Tim. When there is nothing living but thee, thou fhalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog, than Apemantus. Apem. Thou art the cap of all the fools alive. Tim. Would, thou wert clean enough to fpit upon. A plague on thee! (32) Apem. Thou art too bad to curfe. Tim. All villains, that do ftand by thee, are pure. Apem. There is no leprofy but what thou speak'ft. Tim. If I name thee.—I'll beat thee; but I should infect my hands. Apem. I would my tongue could rot them off! (31) Apem. Yonder comes a poet, &c.] Apemantus is fuppos'd to look out here, and to fee the poet and painter at a distance, as traverfing the woods in queft of Timon. This preparation of fcenary Mr. Pope did not conceive; and therefore, I don't know by what authority, has peremptorily thrown out fome part, and tranfpofed another part of this and the next fpeech to the place where Apemantus goes off. None of the old books countenance fuch a tranfpofition. (32) A plague on thee! Apem. I bou art too bad to curfe] In the former editions, this whole verfe was placed to Apemantus: by which, abfurdly, he was made to curfe Timon, and immediately to fubjoin that he was too bad to curfe. In my SHAKESPEARE reftor'd I gave the former part of the hemiftich to Timon, and the latter part to Apemantus; as it is now. regulated in the text: and Mr. Pope, in his laft edition, has vouchfaf'd to embrace this regulation. Choler Choler does kill me, that thou art alive: I fwoon to fee thee. Apem. Would thou wouldst burft! Tim. Away, thou tedious rogue, I am forry I shall lofe a ftone by thee. Apem. Bean! Tim. Slave! Apem. Toad! Tim. Rogue! rogue! rogue! [Apem. retreats backward, as going. I am fick of this falfe world, and will love nought beat Then, Timon, prefently prepare thy grave; [Looking on the gold. 'Twixt natural fon and fire! thou bright defiler Of Hymen's pureft bed! thou valiant Mars! Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate wooer, Whofe bluth doth thaw the confecrated fnow, That lies on Dian's lap! thou visible god, That foldreft clofe impoffibilities, And mak'ft them kifs! that speak'ft with every tongue, To every purpofe! oh, thou touch of hearts! Apem. Would 'twere fo, But not 'till I am dead! I'll fay, thou haft gold: Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly. Tim. Throng'd to? Apem. Ay. Tim. Thy back, I pr'ythee. Apem. Live, and love thy mifery! Tim. Long live fo, and fo die. I am quit. Apem. No things like men--eat, Timon, and abhor them. [Exit Apem. Enter Enter Thieves. I Thief. Where should he have this gold? It is fome poor fragment, fome flender ort of his remainder: the mere want of gold, and the falling off of friends, drove him into this melancholy. 2 Thief. It is nois'd, he hath a mass of treasure. 3 Thief. Let us make the affay upon him; if he care not for't, he will fupply us eafily: if he covetously reserve it, how fhall's get it? 2 Thief. True; for he bears it not about him: 'tis hid. 1 Thief. Is not this he? All. Where? 2 Thief. 'Tis his defcription. All. Soldiers; not thieves. Tim. Both too, and womens fons. All. We are not thieves, but men that much do want. Tim. Your greatest want is, you want much of meet. (33) Why fhould you want? behold, the earth hath roots, Within this mile break forth an hundred fprings; The oaks bear mafts, the briars fcarlet hips: The bounteous hufwife nature on each bush Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want? (33): -you want much of meat.] Thus both the player and poetical editors have given us this paffage; quite fand-blind, as honeft Launcelot fays, to our author's meaning. If these poor thieves wanted meat, what greater want could they be curs'd with, as they could not live on grafs, and berries, and water? But I dare warrant, the poet wrote; -you want much of meet. i. e. Much of what you ought to be: much of the qualities befitting you as humane creatures. In the very fame manner is the word ufed again in Coriolanus, fpeaking of tribunes being chosen at an unfit time; In a rebellion, When what's not meet, but what must be, was law, Then were they chofen. And in a little poem of our author's, call'd, The Tryal of Love's Con fancy, we find him employing the fubftantive in the like fenfe. To bitter fauces did I frame my feeding; 1 Thief. I Thief. We cannot live on grafs, on berries, water, As beafts, and birds, and fifhes. Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds and fishes; That you are thieves profeft; that you work not Here's gold. Go, fuck the fubtle blood o' th' grape, "Till the high fever teeth your blood to froth, And fo fcape hanging. Truft not the physician, His antidotes are poifon, and he flays More than you rob. Take wealth, and live together. Like workmen; I'll example you with thievery. (34) The fea's a thief, whofe liquid furge refolves The The moon into falt tears. ] The fea melting the moon into tears, is, I believe, a fecret in philofophy, which no body but Shakespeare's deep. editors ever dream'd of. There is another opinion, which 'tis more reasonable to believe that our author may allude to; viz. that the faltness of the fea is caufed by feveral ranges, or mounds of roch-falt under water, with which refolving liquid the fea was impregnated. Varenius in his geography is very copious upon this argument: After having touch'd upon another opinion, that the faline particles were coeval with the ocean itself, he fubjoins; Si ea caufa minus placet, alteram eligemus; nimirum falfas iflas particulas a terrâ hinc inde avulfas effe, & in aquâ diffolutas. Lib. 1. cap. 13. prop. 8. This I think a fufficient authority for changing moon into mounds: and I am still the more confirm'd, becaufe Mr. Warburton, who did not know I had touch'd the place, fent me up the very fame correction. Of the fea thus encroaching upon the land, our author has made mention more. than once in his works. See 2 Henry IV. fee the revolution of the times Make mountains level; and the continent, Weary of folid firmness, melt itself Into the fea. And again, in a poem of his, call'd, Injurious Time: Advantage on the kingdom of the shore. And |